


Total Compensation Package

by D20Owlbear



Series: Flirty Redhead Boss Tries To Get Railed [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Newsroom, Aziraphale's his best reporter, Blow Jobs, Boss/Employee Relationship, Cock Warming, Crowley's head editor etc etc, Flirty redhead boss blown by employee instead, Flirty redhead desperately wants to get railed, He's not upset about it, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor D/S Undertones, Office Sex, They're reporters and stuff, This is all a thinly veiled excuse to make so many bad jokes, a SINGLE footnote, and it goes from there, as a joke of course, at the very end, brief cameo of Michael (Good Omens), extremely minor blink and you'll miss it, innuendos; terrible puns; other 12 year old sex jokes humor, kinda not really get walked in on, kinda relationship ig, no actual danger of being found out, trash porn for the porn pile, why else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:48:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29318904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/D20Owlbear
Summary: Anthony J Crowley-Harrison, otherwise known as Crowley, is the chief editor of the local newspaper. Mr Fell is his star reporter.So, just what is a guy supposed to do when he hears his best employee is looking elsewhere for employment?! Turns out, a raise and "sit there and look pretty" does the trick.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Flirty Redhead Boss Tries To Get Railed [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2153619
Comments: 38
Kudos: 136
Collections: Ineffablexxx - Directors Cut





	Total Compensation Package

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NaroMoreau](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaroMoreau/gifts).



> Thank you so so much to GoodbyeVanny for the title, Ack_Emma for helping me out of a slight rut with this (eyyo) and the "compensation demands were sizable and lengthy" line, and last but not least to leilakalomi for the beta and being subject to my utter misuse of tense, commas, and probably spelling somewhere too. 
> 
> Also a thanks to Naro and Hanap for the lovely porn tropes collection, I'm loving reading everyone's so much!!

A knock sounded on Crowley's door and he looked up only to close his eyes, glad for his heavily tinted glasses and his “sensitivity to light” excuse for them. Mr Fell was at his door and he was dressed as sharply as usual: a grey tweed waistcoat impeccably pressed over matching trousers, his bow tie looser than normal, and his coat missing entirely.

"Fell." Crowley greeted, clearing his throat and smiling lightly. "To what do I owe a visit from the newsroom?"

"Diary," Fell gestured to his computer, and just like every time he'd gotten a visit from the man, he was suddenly and viscerally reminded of how bare-bones his office was. He'd been editor-in-chief for years but had never filled his office with anything, so it was left concrete and unadorned. Even his desk was mostly clear of things except the two monitors on either side of his workhorse of a laptop that fit snugly in an understatedly expensive leather briefcase and came home with him every night.

"And you needed to come to me for it and not Michael? No need to go around the managing editor anymore…" Crowley replied, but sat back in his chair and fanned out his fingers with a flick of his wrist, indicating for Fell to come sit.

Shutting the door behind him, Fell nodded and crossed the room but didn't sit. Crowley very carefully kept his eyes on Fell's and did _not_ shiver at the intent look staring right back at him.

"This is something more than just today's diary," Fell murmured, his voice suddenly deeper than normal and low enough that Crowley had to lean forward to hear him.

"Off diary story, then? I'm still not–" Crowley was cut off with a short, huff of a sigh from Fell.

"No, not that. I– how long have I worked for you, Mr. Crowley-Harrison?" Fell asked suddenly.

Crowley pursed his lips, "As many times as I've told you just to call me Crowley."

"Well, then, perhaps just one more–" Fell dragged out the 'one more' suspiciously and the gears in Crowley's head started working double-time.

"Wait!" Crowley stood from his chair, fast enough to send it rolling back a few inches behind him, in absolutely no mood to have this conversation sitting down and looking over his computer screens. "Are you here to _quit_?!"

"I… well sort of," Fell dithered a little and fiddled with his rolled-up sleeves just at his elbows, "In a manner of speaking."

"What are they paying you?" Crowley leaned forward, his hand planted firmly on the desk in front of him, and his eyes squinting behind glasses as he frowned. "I've got a right to know what someone's trying to poach my best reporter for."

"For reporting, presumably." Fell smiled in that _particular_ way that always made the word 'bastard' pop into Crowley's thoughts, all too fondly for his comfort.

Crowley hooked an ankle under his chair's seat and pulled it close enough to fall back onto theatrically. He sighed as he did so, letting the air punch out of his lungs and raising his hands up. For the drama, of course. "Yeah, yeah, alright, I walked into that one. But seriously, Fell, what'd they say they were going to pay you? I'll match it, _at least_."

Fell bobbled his head and hummed, as if he were engaged in a heated internal debate, but eventually bit his lip with a grimace and said, "What I'm being paid here then half more."

Crowley whistled and nodded, not entirely unexpected. He'd already been paid well enough for a London flat, Crowley did his best to make sure of it in his newsroom, but that was certainly a jump. He shifted his monitors so he had a clear view of Fell and steepled his fingers, leaning forward again with elbows planted on his desk.

"Alright," Crowley muttered.

"Alright?" Fell repeated, sounding a bit shocked, maybe a little off-kilter even.

"Yeah," Crowley shot back, smiling smugly, pleased to subvert expectations wherever possible. "Yeah, we'll match it. I'll have to talk with Accounting, of course, but I'm confident we can."

"O– oh…" Fell stepped forward, little more than shifting his weight to the foot inched forward, before swaying in place. He wet his lips with a tongue Crowley couldn't help but be distracted by, before berating himself for his thoughts. He was _at work_.

"Weren't expecting that?"

"Er, no, actually." Fell's hands came together and he wrung his fingers together, his eyes looking everywhere but at Crowley directly. Crowley was self aware enough, at least, to admit to himself that he very much didn't like not being looked at by Fell. "I was, well, expecting a bit more of a fight if I'm being honest."

"A fight?"

"A negotiation."

"Ah…" Crowley muttered and sat up again, about ready to say something more when a message pinged on his monitor. He swung the screen back around to look at it properly, typing up a response and sending it off. He startled a little when he looked back up to see Fell up close, standing beside his desk, hip leaning on the edge of it. Crowley traced the bite of the wood in the plushness of Fell's hip with his eyes even as he turned his head to face Fell; Crowley had always been stellar at aping the look of one reaction while hiding another behind his dark glasses.

"Fell–" The question Crowley had meant to ask strangled itself on the back of his tongue and he swallowed heavily, unable to stop the slow, deep inhale through his mouth at the _look_ in Fell's eyes.

"I have," Fell began lightly, his tone so incongruous with the heated, hungry way he looked at Crowley that it made his head spin, made the room spin with how quickly all the air was sucked out of it, and with it Crowley's breath, "One more er… condition, of you will."

"I will," Crowley whispered before his teeth clacked with how sharply he shut his mouth. He felt a blush burning across his face at the unintentional husky tone his voice had taken on. But was it his fault, really? With Fell looking at him _like that_? The deliberately unnamed heat in Fell's eyes flared, and Crowley, very deliberately, unnamed it harder.

Fell reached out slowly and deliberately, and his eyes never left Crowley's over the tops of his glasses, until his hands were over Crowley's wrists, pinning them to the arms of his office chair. A step forward, Crowley was rolled back a step, two, and then Fell turned to step between Crowley and his desk.

Crowley choked on a word, a question maybe, he couldn't tell anymore, and Fell only smirked a small, devious smile, saying to him, "Shhh. You want to keep me, don't you?"

"Ye–" The syllables tripped over his tongue, thick and heavy in his mouth. He swallowed so loud he could hear it. Crowley knew Fell heard as well if the twitch of his lips and the satisfaction in his eyes, like a cat who'd caught the canary and was about ready to toy it to death, and then the man dropped to his knees, to the floor, looking up at Crowley.

" _Haahh_ ," Crowley said, and then forced himself to shut up before he said it again.

"What was that, dear?" Fell asked, his eyes sparking with what Crowley could only call triumphant mischief.

"Yeeaaaahhh," Crowley said breathily, thankful it at least hadn't turned into a whine in his throat, though the way it clicked shut wetly threatened to make anything else from his lips embarrassing and desperate-sounding.

"Good boy," Fell said with a smile that spoke of the bastard hiding underneath his fussy clothes and prim manners. He pulled Crowley closer, the wheels on his office chair offering Crowley no respite at all nor did they put up any fight against Fell, until he was situated nearly under his desk as if he were seated normally before his keyboard and monitors.

Crowley reached out to fix the monitors so they were all facing him out of nervous habit, and then groaned, red-cheeked, at the dumb look on his face reflected back at him, and how his jaw dropped and his mouth fell open silently when Fell nuzzled along the inside of his thigh. He tensed and gripped at the arms of the chair tight enough he could feel his knuckles go white; a soft, low whine that could barely be heard punched out of him under his breath as Fell mouthed gently at him, hot breath soaking through his trousers and the silk of his knickers. For a moment the whole room spun and he was dizzy with the erotic knowledge that Fell would know, now, that he wore knickers instead of boxers (at least sometimes) to work. Depending on how adventurous the man intended to get, he might learn Crowley sometimes (today) took a liking to lace bralettes as well underneath his more professional attire.

Fell's hands slowly migrated up Crowley's thighs, his fingertips along the outside, his palms across the top, and the pad of his thumbs up along Crowley's sensitive inner thighs. Fell's hands moved slowly, up and up lean legs, until they slid up against his balls and up further to dig his fingers into Crowley's hips and knead gently —softly, too softly, it's _torture_ — with the pads of his thumbs along Crowley's rapidly filling cock.

"Fe– _Fell_ ," Crowley groaned. His eyes slipped shut of their own accord. His body felt like he was burning up, the blood in his veins was boiling, he was sure, and the blush would permanently tattoo his face at this rate. He breathed in deeply to settle himself only to gasp sharply as Fell leaned forward and mouthed at his cock through his trousers. The slight arch of his back did nothing but make him bite back another gasp as his nipples brushed against the lace and the band of the bralette cut into his skin, constricting his breathing in a singularly pleasurable way now that he'd been _firmly_ aroused.

"Yes, sir?" Fell's words shot to the core of him, he could feel the smirk pressed into the front of his trousers, and _sir_ had never felt so much like a diminutive than it did now.

Crowley breathed another whine when Fell took the zip of his fly between his teeth and pulled down, holding Crowley's hips in place with hands that had no right to be as unyielding as iron bands, keeping him from bucking into the touch of Fell's lips as they dragged over the lace of his knickers straining to hold him in. His eyes shot open at the soft, interested noise Fell made, not unlike a shaky sigh, and leaned back as much as he could manage to see underneath his desk. Fell's eyes were on his crotch, wide and nearly black with interest. His hands loosened their grip on Crowley's hips and trailed over his pelvis to the front of his trousers, popping the button free.

Fell moaned. Crowley might not have heard it if not for how he was holding his breath, and he full-body shuddered as Fell pushed up the hem of his shirt to his stomach to take a proper gander at his knickers.

"Oh _look_ at you," Fell whispered salaciously, he licked his lips and looked up at Crowley, making him swallow loudly. Crowley's legs instinctively started to close, to hide, feeling suddenly vulnerable for his off-hand choice of underthings that morning, one he had no trouble making any other morning, except it seemed there'd be consequences for it today–

"No, my boy," Fell said firmly, his voice halfway to a throaty growl that made Crowley's spine turn to jelly pudding, and his hands gripped tight at Crowley's knees to pull them apart and shuffle in even closer. "No hiding, dear, this is _quite_ the surprise, but not an unwelcome one at all…"

Fell leaned in to lave the flat of his tongue over Crowley's cock through the lace of his knickers, and he could just barely feel the wetness of his mouth, the damp of his breath, the heat of his tongue through it. Crowley bit back a moan, more than practiced at staying quiet when necessary, and squirmed for a moment until Fell gripped his hips once more to hold him in place. _Again with the teeth_ , Crowley thought dizzily to himself, choking on the gasp as Fell bit the elastic and lace and dragged it down, rubbing his cheek along the length of Crowley's cock as he did so. It was probably for the best, if Crowley was the sort to be honest about it, otherwise he'd have bucked up and smeared the precome beading at the tip of his cock over Fell's cheek already.

The thought of smearing Fell's face with his come wasn't very helpful, and only made him dizzier considering his heartbeat was now firmly in his cock instead of his chest.

Crowley breathed in another shuddering breath and then keened loudly, the sound surprised out of him as Fell wrapped his lips around the head of his cock. Fell's tongue tentatively licked and curled along the glans and flicked over the slit, pulling ungodly noises from Crowley that he whined out under his breath. Fell didn't move his hands, didn't let Crowley shift or writhe or anything of the sort, and just… leisurely mapped Crowley's cock with his tongue.

It was bliss.

It was _torture_.

And then, when Crowley thought he'd go utterly mad, Fell bobbed his head and forced Crowley to rock his hips with the iron grip he had on them, pressing what would surely be bruises into Crowley's skin and bones. Crowley whimpered, he whined slightly with every exhale and only just barely managed to keep his breathing any semblance of even. With every small, tiny, minuscule movement of Fell's head and rock of Crowley's hip, Fell's lips gained ground. Further and further down Crowley's cock until Crowley moaned, an utter wreck of a sound, as the tip of his cock hit the back of Fell's throat.

No gag reflex, _nice_.

Crowley could feel himself harden just a little bit more in Fell's mouth, as if the lack of gag reflex was more arousing than being blown in the first place. Instead of continuing to bob his head like Crowley might have expected, Fell stopped. He didn't pull off, just hummed around his cock (making Crowley curse because _fuck_ he was only a man) and flexed his tongue on the underside of his cock. There was just enough stimulation to keep him from growing limp or disinterested but not nearly enough to bring him to the edge.

"Fell, you _bastard_ ," Crowley groaned at his inability to do _anything_ to find his release, held in place and at the mercy of Fell kneeling underneath his desk and tonguing at his cock as he liked, occasionally swallowing around him. Fell hummed again smugly and Crowley could almost feel the smile in the slight stretch of his lips.

It went on for what felt like hours, but likely was only minutes, a cycle Crowley was uniquely attuned to. Fell would sigh and interrupt his own slow, even breathing pattern, his tongue would flex at the sides up around Crowley's cock, he'd do that for as long as he pleased, sometimes more vigorously than others, and when Crowley could feel his mouth grow wetter and wetter around him with drool, Fell would _suck_ suddenly and swallow around the tip of him, holding his hips in place as Crowley's legs stretched and shook uselessly by his sides.

After a few rounds of this unique, ecstatic agony Crowley attempted to squeeze his knees into Fell's ribs to make him just bloody _move_ already, but no matter how he twisted or writhed or even thrashed, there was no moving Fell, who had turned out to be an utter mountain of muscle underneath his soft exterior (and Crowley hadn't ever _thought_ he had a strength kink before). Crowley ached and clenched down on nothing and hoped to whatever was up there that might grant his wish that he'd get his due and be bent over the desk and utterly railed by the man between his legs.

Crowley's computer pinged again and whatever parts of his soul had been leaking out of his body (through his dick most likely, sucked and tongued and swallowed bit by bit) slammed back into him full force, leaving him choking for air and gasping. Coincidentally, Fell had also sucked on him at that moment and swallowed again. Breaking the established cycle with a smug look in his eyes, Fell hollowed his cheeks and bobbed his head all of one time, pulling off Crowley's cock inch by excruciatingly slow inch and kissed the tip only to return to his previous position of mouth full of _turgid length_ and brushing the back of his throat. Crowley giggled a little hysterically to himself at the phrase _turgid length_ as it passed through his mind like some poorly written bodice ripper[1].

The notification sounded again and pulled Crowley's attention. Tentatively, now that he remembered he had hands at all, he unclenched them from the arms of his chair, wincing as blood rushed back into his fingertips. Crowley fumbled the fingers of one hand into Fell's hair, and scratched lightly at his scalp, unsure what else to do with the most… not unenthusiastic blow job of his life, but certainly something like it. Fell groaned around him as Crowley's nails dug into his Fell's curls and for a brief moment Crowley thought of fisting both his hands in the blond mess and making him finally fucking _move_ to take him up and over the precipice he'd been dithering about for some time now. But then, as if reading Crowley's intention in the curling of his fingers, Fell gripped even tighter at Crowley's hips, making him hiss in pleasure at the feel of finger-shaped bruises that would bloom a lovely purple by tomorrow.

Crowley removed his hand from Fell's hair and set the both of them on the keyboard of his computer. Idly he noticed they were trembling. A third time, his computer pinged, three different people who needed answers from him and at least two of them were somewhat urgent. He… he wasn't entirely sure what to do, was there _etiquette_ involved about not doing your work when your cock was in someone else's mouth? Normally it wouldn't be a problem, normally it'd have been over by now, right?

His breath hitched at the feel of Fell swallowing around him again, his hips held back from the uncontrollable urge to thrust up into that feeling, and settled again. Slowly he typed out an answer to a copy editor and sent an email to the night editor about a shift in duties later today. At first, the clacking of his loud keyboard was slow, and he worried he was somehow overstepping (as if the _whole situation_ wasn't overstepping, somehow, by someone, Crowley wasn't actually sure of the ethics of the whole thing and while he'd made a habit of looking gift horses in the mouth he sure as fuck didn't _ask_ them anything), but Crowley quickly grew more confident when the hum-wet-suck-swallow routine kept on as usual. Fell's hands even loosened a little on his hips to wander and knead his arse and feel up the soft lace of his knickers.

Crowley very carefully did not think about how easy they were to tear or how firm and large Fell's fingers were, nor how strong his hands were—nope not a thought! Nothing about how the lovely feel of slight calluses on the very tips of his fingers caught on the lace. He never imagined the sound they might make when ripped or how it'd feel to walk around the rest of the day knowing they were ruined beyond repair under his trousers, hanging in strips on his legs and brushing his thighs with every step– Crowley moaned low in his throat and breathed in sharply at the way Fell's tongue moved and curled along the underside of his cock, his eyes fluttering shut for just a moment before there was yet another pinging noise from his computer.

He ran his hands over his face, scrubbing his cheeks to make himself focus, and started in on his work. It was fine, it'd be fine, whatever Fell was getting out of this to make it his condition he– Crowley cut off the thought there. Not thinking about it! (Fuck he was fucked, he'd be thinking about this _forever_ , he'd already had dreams about Fell on his knees and now he knew what it looked like? In reality?! Crowley was _fucked_.) Crowley didn't have a good way to explain this away, and he wasn't at all any good at ignoring it, not with the heat of Fell's mouth and the plushness of his lips that begged to be fucked, except Fell wouldn't _let him_ and– nope!

A shiver raced up his spine and Crowley groaned as he shifted his legs, forcing them to relax (and nearly jumped when Fell petted his thighs in response like he approved, the bastard). A small multitude of emails had come in while Crowley had been… indisposed. _Technically_ , he still was, but well… it was more of an ongoing distraction rather than a true need for his immediate attention, so he'd make use of the time he had before Fell drove him to… something you get driven to.

He shifted ever so often, and so did Fell, but otherwise the ouroboros of utterly passive cocksucking lulled Crowley into a slight daze of hyperfocus. His emails were cleared out in an hour flat and all messages replied to, inquiries sent where needed, and he'd started in on the layout for tomorrow ahead of schedule. With an unusual amount of energy and focus, Crowley finished tasks on his list until he was well ahead of where he'd normally need to be, let alone after having lost an hour or so of his workday to… negotiations.

A brief knock sounded at his door before opening a moment later, far faster than he could deny entry, and his spine stiffened. He could feel the way his knees dug into Fell's sides, just like he could feel how utterly relaxed Fell still was and the errant thought flashed across his mind like a neon red light in Soho at midnight, is he _used_ to this? Fell didn't even bother to refrain from using his tongue on Crowley's cock.

"Y– yes, something you need, Michael?" Crowley muttered, trying desperately and failing to keep the redness off his face.

She opened her mouth, about to say something, but closed it as she looked up from her tablet at him. "Are… are you sick?"

" _Hnf_ ," Crowley said, a bit like an asthmatic tea kettle, "No?"

Michael narrowed her eyes and took a deliberate step back towards the door. Crowley was very thankful for it since the clack of her heel on the floor covered the squeak of a moan that eked out from his lips as Fell pressed his face further into the concave curve of Crowley's stomach, taking him just _that_ much deeper into his throat. Crowley covered his mouth with a hand and adjusted to look like he was only resting his chin on his palm.

"Well…" Michael drew out the word long enough that Crowley could infer exactly what she thought of his denial. "Perhaps you should work from home tomorrow." It wasn't really a request. Crowley rolled his eyes.

"What'd you come in for?" It was a feat of will, but Crowley managed to keep his voice from sounding too strained. Admittedly he blew the other way a bit far and sounded breathy instead, but well he'd just been given a decent explanation.

"Just wanted to check in on the Fell… situation." Michael made a gesture with her hand, rolling it at the wrist, like he was supposed to know what that meant. He was gay, not _telepathic_.

Crowley jerked in his seat and bit his tongue to keep from squeaking, undignified that would be. Fell's hands wrapping around his hips once more helped too, slotting into place over bruised skin like a lifeline. He swallowed around the frog in his throat (and _didn't_ think about his cock in Fell's throat) before he could reply.

"He, er… his compensation demands were, er, sizable and lengthy indeed."

"Lengthy?" Michael blinked slowly.

"Er, yeah. He was, um, here. For a while. Negotiating." All _technically_ true, if one was allowed to speak in past imperfect tense. Crowley didn't think so, but also there were no laws about it, so it was probably fine.

"Alright…" Michael really was drawling a lot, wasn't she? Crowley's eye twitched and his fingers dug into his cheek when Fell shifted underneath the desk, unnaturally silent and easily unnoticed by anyone but Crowley. Michael just held up her tablet and opened the door, already backing out with a parting, "Check your emails, you have to approve layout."

"Already did!" Crowley trilled, quite proud of it. He was less proud of the squinty, disbelieving-yet-baffled-in-a-good-way look Michael gave as she shut the door once she was out of the way.

The moment the door clicked shut again and Michael's heels clacked away, Fell pulled back. He pushed Crowley's seat away from his desk with the hold on his hips and shuffled forward with a smirk.

"Sizeable and lengthy, hm?"

Oh god, Crowley was going to die, he was actually going to fucking die in his office with his cock out because Fell's voice just _had_ to get sexier and rougher and husky, and Crowley railed against the unfairness of it all, while simultaneously praying he'd get utterly railed over his desk. It was, unfortunately, not going to happen, as Fell only shifted his weight on his knees and leaned down again to wet the lace over Crowley's balls with his tongue.

Unable to hold in a soft, breathy moan, Crowley's hand tangled in Fell's fucking surprisingly coarse hair (though it fit him better, somehow, than soft) and gripped tightly. The answering breath of a moan was gratifying and thrilling in a way Crowley didn't really want to look too far into at the moment.

As fate would have it, he didn't think anything else at all when Fell looked him in the eyes and murmured sultrily, "Shall I suck you off now?"

Crowley made a noise like an acme piano falling from the third storey before pulling himself together and croaking hoarsely, "You weren't before?"

"No, of course not." That prim little smile had no right to be so infuriating and kissable at the same time. But it was, and Crowley was gonna die about that too if the way his heart beat had any say about it. " _That_ , my dear, was keeping your cock warm."

For a moment Crowley thought his computer had crashed, but it turned out to just be him. His eyes had fallen closed and he stopped breathing for a moment, and absolutely hated ~~loved~~ the way Fell's lips formed four-letter words.

"Yeah," Crowley wheezed out, "Yeah, 's fine." The effort of talking was quickly made worth his while when Fell ducked down again and pulled Crowley's knees over his shoulders, sucking him down again into the wet heat of his mouth. Crowley was bent in two in his chair and he idly thought it would make a great position to be firmly taken in, Fell laid a mouth-wateringly dense forearm across his hip and took him in hand.

Crowley strangled a cry and couldn't help the way he full-body jerked at the sudden, intense stimulation after _however long_ it had been becoming keenly attuned to every godforsaken swathe of his tongue and every shift of his lips. But now Fell was _actively_ sucking at his cock, bobbing his head with hollowed cheeks like an expert who'd never heard of jaw fatigue. (Crowley shoved his other hand into his mouth at the thought of getting eaten out for hours with that jaw, and then shoved it away in the 'never think of this again' box in the back of his head; he shouldn't be considered responsible for the way that particular fantasy made his cock twitch even between Fell's lips.)

The bastard moaned around him and that was it, Crowley was done. The boss has left the building, his soul has been sucked out of his body through his dick, he'd died and he's dead now. Crowley's hand had indentations from his teeth in semi-circles between his thumb and first finger; it'd be his luck that would bruise by tomorrow too. He carefully unclenched his shaking hand from Fell's hair and pulled in gasping breaths. His thighs were shaking and he felt more than heard Fell laughing.

Carefully the man tucked him back into his knickers and zipped up his trousers, though not putting him any more to rights than that so his shirt was still untucked and his hair was a mess and he could feel himself still quivering in the face of that orgasm.

"Should–" Crowley began haltingly, "Do I say thank you?" His voice shot up and could be found somewhere in the vicinity of Mars at the end of his question.

Fell chuckled, deep and throaty, and Crowley noticed that Fell wasn't sporting tented trousers of his own at all. Crowley frowned a little, but it cleared up when Fell spoke. "No. Get yourself some water though, and a snack."

Fell was firm and his fingers tapped lightly against the side of Crowley's neck, the palm of his hand nearly curling around Crowley's throat to cup it gently, if not for the breath of air between his skin and Fell's hand. Crowley breathed a shudder and looked up to meet Fell's eyes again.

"Maybe take that sick day tomorrow, too." Fell winked and smiled. "And if I catch you staring at my arse again, I'll have to think of a new way to punish you."

Crowley choked and scrambled to stand, not managing it without leaning heavily on his desk, and by the time Fell had his hand on the doorknob, Crowley half-shouted, "You whot?!"

With a smirk and a wink, Fell turned to tap the side of his nose and shut the door as he walked out.

 _Oh god_ , Crowley smiled stupidly as he fell back into his chair, slouching for all of England, _I'm so fucked._

### Footnotes

1. As the only footnote in this entire porn, the author implores those reading to understand that this, also, is a poorly written bodice ripper only with more… modern tropes, if one pleases.↩

**Author's Note:**

> No one look at me, there's already a sequel planned or possibly a short series.
> 
> Entirely unrelated, of course, Fell absolutely ends up with more wank material. His current foremost fantasy after this... encounter is more or less:
> 
> Crowley tied to the arms of his chair from wrist to elbow, blazer halfway off his shoulders and caught on his arms, shirt untucked and opened almost all the way and pushed up to his waist. Trousers unbuttoned and cock straining at lace knickers, a damp patch at the front, and chest heaving with his breaths, face covered in a blush, and looking at Fell with wide, glassy eyes begging to suck his cock.
> 
> Yanno, just in case you were curious.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Come find me in a couple of places! I absolutely love to be talked to! Please come interact with me if you're this way inclined~
> 
> My Twitter: <https://twitter.com/Great_Ass_aFire>  
> My Tumblr: <https://d20owlbear.tumblr.com/>
> 
> If you like what I write, please think about supporting me, links in my pinned Tumblr post about how to do so!


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